Lore
There are a total of 165 Missing Pages that can be found that reveal the lore of the game. The best way to find the pages is by praying to Obelisk as the shrine drops them if not all have been found. Before any Missing Pages have been found, the Bookcase will say: "The Bookcase is empty..." Shield I served my warmongering king loyally. I defended the realm from his blunders numerous times. And yet still they hate me. But there are none who hate me more than myself. My life is nothing more than a tool wielded by the kingdom. A shield that can afford no thoughts of vanity. I died long ago. I was bloodthirsty and violent. Now I am a husk. And still they hate me. They see the sadistic soldier I once was, the violent champion of war. I want none of that anymore. But if they need somebody to blame, then so be it. I will carry the realm's burden. I deserve no less. They call me warmonger, like my king before. They call me treasonous. But I did what I must to keep the king from leading a realm of ashes. We are all safer for it. And now a new war threatens within my own borders. All I do, I do to keep them safe. If war is what it takes, I will shoulder the responsibility. I will make this the last war this kingdom endures. This time, I mean that truly. It cannot be avoided. I must attack first or I will be seen as weak. But after victory, I am done with war. This time I will insure that the kingdom will live in peace and prosperity. But is that not what I said of the last war? The King My king has been seized unjustly, and I will undoubtedly be next. He was a good man, a strong man. He protected the ungrateful peasants from the winter hordes. Those damned ice-worshipping barbarians spilled from the northern wastes. A storm of soldiers to blanket the land in war. My king defended the realm against their ilk, but he fought alone. Even the gods turned their back on him. The scum known as Shield, once his majesty's most loyal friend, betrayed the entire kingdom and now rules as a tyrant. My king has been taken to the north. I hear that Veil himself has gifted a servant to stand vigil over his prison. Thousandfold He is the Thousand-Faced God of Violence. Some call him Thousandfold, though he has many names. In fact, he has every name. Those prone to the abstract might call him human. Or simply monster. He is all and all are him. We, the followers of Thousandfold, will expose the lie of pacifism, the hypcrisy of mankind's mercy. The promise of peace lets us wage war. Treatise on Sow Also known as the World Tree, the god Sow is the oldest god to know the Earth because it is the Earth. Most known gods take a sentient form, often humanoid. Sow is commonly depicted as a great oak, but in fact can be found in all plant life. If Sow deigned to stir it would shatter the balance we have come to rely upon. To Sow, this would be no more significant than brushing one's hair. I only just found this paper. There are some writings about a god called Sow. I do not remember anything. I have asked around and apparently this treatise is very valuable. Anything from before the Great Fugue is valuable. Maybe Sow suffers from the same amnesia we do? Maybe that is why the world seems a little different every day. It looks as though I have found a buyer. I will remove my personal ramblings to use as an ongoing journal. I Know Naught Where to begin? There exists a god called Naught. It is the God of Chaos, Confusion, and Contradictions. I would not even try describing its physical appearance. To even look upon Naught is to go insane. That said, I have come to believe that Naught's cloud of inconsistencies is more of a shroud to hide its true self. Beneath the bizarre, beneath the random and uncomfortable entropy is a sense subtly that we can hardly perceive. I believe that "The God of Chaos" is merely a mask. "The God of Trickery, Lies, and Shadow" may be a more apt title. A Violent Champion The awakening has begun. A child of the divine union between life and death has been found. Espousing all qualities of our fertile goddess and the great equalizer while retaining neither the stagnation of life nor the paralysis of death. A truly violent individual. A perfect metaphor for humanity. It will herald death while cherishing life. The child of a thousand faces is a champion to us all. This truly is a new age. Even the gods will cower. Kingdoms built on their own torpor will crumble. The thrill of blood and fury will rejuvinate this redious world. All we needed was a catalyst: A being to make us act. The violence will awaken within us. No more lies, no more gods. And we will celebrate a thousandfold before each drop of blood turns dry. What Have I done? King Tremodyr of Winter The northern people, despite what you may hear from my kingdom, are an industrious and scientific civilization. We call them barbarians of course. The "Northern Horde". But king Tremodyr lead's a progressive charge. Science and technology flourish among these "barbarians". Even now we use the potions developed in the north to treat soldiers wounded in skirmishes with that very nation. It is no wonder the frozen king engenders such divisive impressions. My Mistake It was supposed to be a beautiful creature, a child blessed of Song. I cannot say where we went wrong. Was the flesh not pure? The blood improperly administrated? The glyphs incorrectly drawn? No experiment is siccessful upon its first attempt but this one was different. We had divine blessing. That quivering mass of flesh and bone is an insult to the Goddess of Life. The entire operation was a mistake. I was tasked with disposing of it. With the creature wrapped in a heavy blanket I headed south of the cemetary, hoping to find somewhere isolated. But when the time came I stayed my dagger. The thing looked at me. It had two eyes, two human eyes. I am weak. I lost my will, failed my colleagues and my goddess. I threw it into the river and ran home. I could not stay to watch it due, such was my shame. The others think little of our failure. They speak of further attempts. But now I hesitate to meddle with the very concept of life. A heart without a soul is not truly alive. The Great Fugue I do not know my name. I do not remember anything. This empty journal was nearby. Maybe it was mine? Something devastating has happened. I am not the only person who cannot remember. There are children in this house. Did I have children? Whatever this is has touched everybody. We all remember nothing. What happened? Was it sudden or gradual? Did we even have lives before this? Maybe we were simply placed here by the gods and brought to life. It is chaos outside. Mass panic. I am not sure where the children have gone. Maybe they were not mine anyway. I asked their names but of course they did not know. I have managed to find a friendly group. They have confirmed what I feared: No man or woman has any recollection of a time before today. Some are calling this the Great Fugue. I supposed that is an apt name. I'm updating this journal in case I forget again. There is no order because nobody remembers what position they held before The Great Fugue. I could be speaking to a king and not know it. I could be a king and not know it. The library nearby has been ransacked. Books of nonfiction are the most valuable commodity. A single page from an illustrated book of history could buy food for a week. Today emilia returned from her hunt claming that she remembers living as a baker. Few believe her. There have been a handful of people, mostly the scavengers, who allege to remember fragments of their life. It is true. Emilia died of consumption last night and tiny purple crystals formed around her body. I touched one and experienced a feeling of nostalgia. Another man, Rogden, returned with supposed memories. Claims he killed a boar while hunting and those same crystals appeared. What I would give for some real memories, real experiences. I am going to speak with Rogden and see if I can have some of his. Patient's Diary The operations were entirely successful, I am so full of life now! They sealed my left pulmonary veins and superior vena cava. My heart is healed. The process took two weeks. I heard one of the doctors even died from exhaustion during a procedure. I am lucky though, most could not be saved. I would look outside and see a new grave erected every single day. But now the horror is over. And I am truly healthier and more full of life than ever before! I will make sure to praise Song for her mercy. The First God We do not know its name. We do not know its origin. We do not know its purpose or motivations. Because humans are lacking in creativitiy we have come to call it Obelisk, simply by virtue of its appearance. A pitch black slab that harbors all the world's knowledge. The legends agree that obelisk stood long before all other members of our divine pantheon. What they do not agree on is why. Is it sentient? Does it simply exist to observe? Does magic truly originate from this towering rock? I have met Obelisk myself and though I felt no sense of communication I can say definitively that it was aware. There was one aspect to the legends that contradict my findings. Obelisk is said to be a being of obsidian, that black crystal spawned amongst active volcanoes. But what I saw looked more like petrified wood. The Beast My lord, rumors of the beast have been confirmed, I have seen it myself. Some say it is merely a large anima, some say a madman, some say it is the Thousand-Faced God of Violence made flesh. However, no witness disputes it bloodlust. As you know, I have killed many monsters in your name. Yet none have been truly worthy of that title until now. The beast is pure evil. I am unable to gather an accurate profile on the creature. The single horrifying moment it stood before I saw all manner of things that now seem contradictory. No man I speak to has seen its natural coloring, as it is always saturated with blood. Perhaps that is how it was born? Some claim to have witnessed its death. Two farmers and a man I strongly suspect is a brigand tell they slew the beast, but that it always returns. Lies, clearly. One of my scouts has reported that the beast was seen in a forest two leagues west of here. My lord, I recommend sending a full company. Excellent news my lord, the beast is slain! I myself watched as your soldiers cut it down. The body did not stay, therefore I've concluded that it was some manner of spectre or construct. Peace has returned to the area, thanks to my lord's fearless soldiers. I will be returning with the company. Everyone is dead. My lord, please sen more men. The whole company is dead. It is back. Send the army. I am in hiding. My lord please do not leave your loyal servant to die. The God of Time Norm, as he is called, lords over the aspect we call "Time". This is gathered from various sources recently uncovered. It is unclear whether Norm has been touched by The Great Fugue. I have certainly been experiencing a lingering sense of deja vu. Is that from Norm? What effects would The Great Fugue have on a god of time? Would we even notice? Is he vulnerable now? His crest depicts, unsuprisingly, a clock. And he appears to have a king of nemesis known as either Breaker of Clocks or Clockbreaker, depending on the source. But a clock is specifically only a human representation of time. Is, or was, the God of Time human? Norm, as he is called, lords over the aspect we call "Time". This is gathered from various sources recently uncovered. It is unclear whether Norm has been touched by The Great Fugue. I have certainly been experiencing a lingering sense of deja vu. Is that from Norm? What effects would The Great Fugue have on a god of time? Would we even notice? Is he vulnerable now? His crest depicts, unsuprisingly, a clock. And he appears to have a king of nemesis known as either Breaker of Clocks or Clockbreaker, depending on the source. But a clock is specifically only a human representation of time. Is, or was, the God of Time human? The Cripple He is called Free. Never did learn his real name. And recently folk have taken to calling him The Cripple. The boors around these parts treat him as one would a god. Truly remarkable how quickly a story can become a legend. Free was, of course, loyal to our imprisoned king's finest general, The Warmonger. That loyalty was his downfall. He should never have complicated things. Should never have supported the coup. When the betrayal was complete our new leader only seeked further bloodshed. Such was his perversion he could understand no life without war. Free petitioned for peace and The Warmonger, the traitor, turned the kingdom's archers on him. Free had a glorious set of wings, whether created through magic, bestowed by the gods, or simply born of a mixed race, I do not know. One of his wings was badly damaged during the volley. Having been cut down by men he could only hobble away. I am sure he yet lives, somewhere unseen. I would fain discover his hidden Grotto although these peasants offer naught but superstition. A Madman's Journal Who am I? I seem to be so many people, but that can't be. Right? I found some manner of sparkling, crystalized wax candle. When I touched it, I remembered my own death. I was stabbed in the back. The last thing I recall is this candle my daughter had made for me. That can't be right, can it? I should be dead. But here I am. I seem to be losing and finding my mind. The memories return with each memento I discover but they are contradictory. Why do I remember being both child and elder, man and woman, peasant and noble? Letter to the Bandit Lord We have made a grave mistake. We cut down its child. We did not know. And now it stirs. The world stirs. This is our fault. My fault. I only wanted to feed my family and now we are doomed. Notes From a Cartographer I have memories of a map-maker, a cartographer. Whether or not they are truly mine, I should take this opportunity to utilize my new motivations. I have purloined an old map, but it's woefully outdated. Everything seems wrong. I will have to explore on my own, design my own maps. This kingdom is old, maybe it had already begun dying long before The Great Fugue. From where I live, the castle to the north is an obvious landmark. There should be a cemetary just east of here but instead I find only a large forest. To the south there is not much worth noting. Endless plains bookended by a desert. The map I have been using shows a cold mountainous region north of the castle. I may try to journey out in that direction soon. Nothing makes sense. I swear there was a path here yesterday. I even marked it. Now everything looks different. What tricks are the gods playing at? Song We are an ode to life. Chaos brought to order by flesh and bone. Our fertile goddess cherishes the living above all else. The dead things will crumble and be forgotten beneath the majesty of a beating heart. We will create new life, everlasting life. And all will sing to our song. Veil Many call him The End or The Great Equalizer, but the god of death's chosen name is Veil. While all fear death, few disrespect its existance. Veil is that inevitability in physical form. He is The Great Equalizer of men. All stand equal in his eyes because all die the same. Truly, nothing matters to The End. He is the last and likely only god that every living creature will meet. The End comes for us all.